


When the world surrounds you I'll make it go away

by JuliaBaggins



Category: Whitechapel (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-28 12:19:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5090492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuliaBaggins/pseuds/JuliaBaggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The case of a murdered American brings Chandler & Kent to think about their feelings for each other...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Suddenly my eyes are open, everything comes into focus

**Author's Note:**

> I just found a little something I wrote about two years ago, before I even knew that it was FanFiction I was writing. I'll post it here, because why not?

He hadn’t slept much, hadn’t been hungry this morning, and all in all just felt miserable. Not that this would be something extraordinary – he felt bad on most days, and it seemed to get harder and harder each day to stop locking and unlocking the front door before he got to his car. But he could handle this, he knew he could. 

His mask was in place and they wouldn’t notice how much he was struggling. 

Short drive through the city, the sun shining in a very unlike-London manner. The weather couldn’t lift his mood.

As soon as he got into the building he just headed straight to his office. He knew he was early, no other member of his team already there. They arrived one by one during the next hour but even when everyone was there, they had nothing to do. It was one of those days. The days when there was no real work to do, no cases that needed to be solved. He knew some of the others enjoyed those days, but he didn't.There was nothing for him to do than to sit in his office, and he hated it. 

He was waiting for something to happen, just anything. 

The bright light of the day was shining through his office’s mucky windows, he sat at his table. Waiting. His pens were in perfect order, everything was alright, but somehow there was a strange feeling in his stomach, one that wasn’t there even on his usual bad days – it felt like something was going on. He was not sure if that something was good or bad. After everything that happened during the past months he surely would have deserved a little nice experience.  
But when did life ever ask what would be nice?

A noise. He answered the phone before the first ring was finished.  
A body found in a little park, yet unidentified. Work to do.

He drove just about four minutes in his new black Mercedes before he arrived in the park. His team was already there. 

But somehow, nothing looked like routine at the crime scene. People were walking around, some stood there with a shocked expression on their faces. A woman was crying. 

He took a few steps behind the barrier, greeted Miles who stood there, a bit paler than usual.

And then he saw it. 

A body had been pulled on top of the fountain in the middle of the park, blood all around, even some body parts in the water. This looked like a scene from a splatter movie – not, that he’d ever seen one, he’d never get that idea. There surely was way too much disorder in most films, and furthermore he saw enough horrible scenes during work, this being the best proof.When he looked at the fountain, he could imagine how that questionable kind of so-called art some people seemed to enjoy looked like. No thanks.

While these thoughts were going through his mind he was walking in the direction of the fountain, until he stood next to it. He had to lay his head back a little to get a close look at the man on the fountain. 

His heart seemed to skip a beat. The man’s skin was covered with a lot of blood, the missing limps catching most of the attention, but now, that he was so close, he could see the dark curls under all the blood. It reminded him of, looked like… No. 

He was standing just a few meters away, talking to the woman who he had seen crying, the one who had found the body. Helped her clean her tears. Asking questions about time, noises, other people. Looking very good in his suit and being amazingly alive. He was safe, the wind blowing through his curls, his big brown eyes were so…

There was a shout that a passport had been found. The dead man was American, arrived in Heathrow five days ago. Slaughtered tourist, celebration day for the media. 

Back to their office, searching for information. The man had been 31 years old, was a teacher, married, two children. In London to visit friends. No known enemies, no useful DNA found. No suspicious persons seen in the park around the time the American was killed.

Killed with one single cut through his throat, after his arms and legs had been removed. After. 

A call over the Atlantic, another one. First a colleague, then a crying widow. One of this moments when he hated his job. 

No new information till Thursday-evening; press conference with nothing to say, journalists looking like it would be Christmas as they got the few basic facts. 

Sandwich in his bureau. 

He tried to enjoy the food, but the image of the man, of Alexander Cavill, at that fountain wouldn’t leave his mind. It had been so unorganized, so… He realized that he was opening and closing his sandwich-box again and again, tried to stop the movement. He couldn’t. All he could focus on was Cavill, the blood, the curls. That horrible second when he had thought… But why had he thought that? He knew he was safe, had seen him that morning when he greeted him with a bright smile after walking into the office… And still…  
He only knew that the thought that it could be him had felt like a knife to his heart. It was nearly as if… No. What was he thinking? They were colleagues, friends, nothing more. He had just been scared of something happening to his friend. Nothing else. 

Or at least he tried to convince himself it was that way while he was looking at the box with his sandwich inside.  
Open. Close. Open. Close.


	2. I don't need hell to make me scared of love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kent's flatmate needs to have a serious conversation with Emerson...

„Buddy, we need to talk.“ 

Emerson Kent looked up from his files on the table to see his flat mate standing there; arms crossed in front of his chest. 

“Hmm.”  
“Em, please.”  
“Not now.”

He wanted to continue reading when Tony decided that this was calling for tougher measures.

“I’m serious here, _Emerson _.”  
Kent flinched.__

__“No one but mom calls me Emerson, you know that.”  
“Yes, I do, and I know you don’t like it to be called by your first name, but that seems to be the only way to get you to listen to me.”  
“Fine. I’m listening.” 

__“Okay, first of all: this is our _damn __kitchen __table _and you’ve got a workplace in your room so there’s no need for…”  
Tony picked up one of the pictures lying in front of Kent. His eyes got huge.___ _ ____

______“Holy shit, Em, what’s _that _?”__  
“The case we’re working at the moment, the American in the park. Told you about it a few days ago.”  
“Yeah, sure, I remember, but I didn’t imagine…”  
He put the picture under one of the folders and closed his eyes for a moment. Finally, he sat down at the second chair and looked at Kent. 

______“Anyway. There’s something else I wanted to talk about.”  
“Okay. And that is?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“See, I think you’re working too much. And I know you’ve got important cases and who knows what but I don’t think that’s the reason. I mean, every time I asked you to join us to the pub during the last few weeks you say no and you’re sitting here till late in the night and… Ohhh I see what you’re doing there. Your Bambi-eyes may be working on everyone else but I’ve got something that needs to be said and not even that will change anything about it. So, I think the reason why you’re working so hella much is cause you want to impress someone at work. A… special someone.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Kent avoided Tony’s gaze and studied his own hands._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He finally whispered._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Hey, look at me.” As Kent didn’t do so Tony grabbed his hand. “I’m your friend. I know you’ve got a huge crush on your boss. And I wanna help you.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______A little sad smile played around Kent’s lips._ _ _ _ _ _

______“So, you want to tell me about it, Em?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Okay, I’ll try, but it’s difficult.” He took a deep breath. “I mean the boss, _Chandler _, he is as out of my league as he could be. And I know that he’s not interested in me, not in _that way _, and I’ve tried to get over it but I can’t. Every time I look at him it’s just… I don’t know. It’s like seeing the sun for the first time after a few rainy days. God, I sound like a sap now. But it really is that way. And though I know that we’ll never _date _or anything I want him to be happy. And he’s got some trouble when it came to catch a suspect, especially alive, so I just want to help him to catch the man that killed the American so he can be brought to justice. Because as long as he’s happy, I can pretend that I’m too.”_______ _ _ _ _ _

____________Tony studied his friend, unsure of what to say. He had already known or guessed most of that, but to hear how Kent said it, his voice sometimes slightly shaking, his big brown eyes so sad, touched his heart. He decided to try a joke to lighten the mood._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“And that Chandler can really resist your magical Bambi-eyes? He must be blind.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Kent couldn’t help but laugh about that and Tony got up. He piled all of the files and folders in front of Kent, put them on a cupboard and got a bottle of red wine as well as two glasses._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“That’s what you need now, buddy. And after a nice glass of wine, we’ll make a plan on how you can confess your feelings to that Chandler. First of all, you should stop calling him Chandler. I’m sure he must have a first name?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Joe.” Kent said his name with a little smile and eyes filled with devotion._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Eda for helping me find a title - next time I'll take "Super Mega Coole FanFiction über Whitechapel", promised! ;-*
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr: consulting-angel-in-bag-end


End file.
